I have two grandchildren. Four years ago, when the announcement was made, I was happy. I was most happy for my daughter. I had raised my children. They are productive, well grounded young adults. Children fill out your life though. And, as an aside to the pending birth, I’ll be a grandma. I looked forward to my daughter raising her child. She’s been a nanny, and loves children. But it will be different for her, having her own I thought. It was all about her, I thought.
When Alexis was born I was thrilled. The miracle of birth! A new life. A blank slate! A new little person to get to know, to nurture. I completely missed the having fun part. It was thrilling to watch my children grow and learn – each little step at a time. How amazing. Now I get to do it again, but skip the diapers, feedings, lack of sleep, frustrating screaming events.
I love being a grandma. I love the hugs when we get together. The running hugs are the best! I’ve seen it in movies – running from a plane into a loved ones arms. I’ve hoped for it when returning after a trip, and been disappointed, over and over. Finally, I have experienced it with a two year old. And it’s honest, and loving, and wonderful. And twice as great with my two grandchildren now.
Our times together are limited because my daughter’s family moved over 400 miles away. Every six to eight weeks we visit, or she visits us. Being a long distance grandma wasn’t going to stand in the way of the children knowing their grandparents.
I have succeeded.